Well, here it is. The somewhat long-awaited Bruce×Brandy love-fic. Hope y'all enjoy!

Captain's log: June 7th, 5:38, P.M.

It has been five years since I have left the Troll Tree and BroZone. I have not heard from any of my brothers since quitting the band, but last I remember, John Dory went to hike the Neverglade trail “bro-lone," or whatever. Clay went to find Trolls who take him seriously, and Floyd has most likely started a solo career. John Dory didn't realize it, but he really knew how to break someone's heart with his songwriting skills. As for Baby Branch, he's got Grandma, so I'm sure he's doing just fine.

And where am I? I have taken the “Red Herring" out to sea in search of my own destiny. As the heartthrob of the band, I wasn't allowed to have a serious relationship and instead had to go on dates with random girls who only liked me for my fame and my well-sculpted physique. Maybe after some time braving the open ocean, I will return a different–

At that moment, part of the mast broke off Spruce's sailboat and swung towards him! He jumped out of the way, only for it to break the helm off and send it flying into the water. The sail was blown down and covered Spruce's head like a blanket. The mast, then, broke free from the ropes and pierced a hole into the boat, causing water to rapidly leak its way in.

“Well, there goes my deposit on this boat," Spruce groaned, tossing the sail off his muscular body. He, then, noticed an island in the distance and, next to the most beautiful sunset he had ever seen, the words “Wish You Were Here!" painted in the sky.

“Well, you only live once," he said. “Come on, Princess."

Right before the boat sank completely, Spruce grabbed Princess, his surfboard, and a bag of supplies and jumped into the water. With nowhere else to go, he climbed up the board with his bag, and began stroking his arms through the water in the direction of the island.

“Come on... just a... few more..." he panted as he got closer to the shore. Once he reached the beach, he rolled off the surfboard and passed out from exhaustion with his back against the sand... only to get woken up by the worst singing he had ever heard.

“What the hair is that caterwauling?!" Spruce exclaimed, sitting back up and looking around to find a very tall, red creature with skinny arms and legs, a dog-like face, and thick, yarn-like orange hair and a matching moustache throwing suitcases into a boat.

BrAaAnd-EEeE, you're a fIiIIne girl!

What a gOoOod wiIIIife you would beEE!

But my life, my loverrR, my ladeEe is the seEeea!

“Hey, do you mind?!" Spruce shouted to him. “Some of us are trying to recover from being washed ashore!"

“Sorry, little dude," he said, “but I'm setting the mood while I get ready to leave home forever."

“Been there," Spruce muttered. “So, what happened? Overbearing parents? Running from the law? Life's becoming a repeating pattern?"

“Overbearing girlfriend... whom I'm running from," he answered. “She wants to move way too fast for me. After only four of them, she asks me where we're going with our relationship! Can you believe her?!"

“That depends. Was is four weeks or months?" Spruce asked.

“Years."

“Years?!" Spruce exclaimed. “If I dated a girl for four years, I'd start thinking about marrying her! Maybe sooner than that."

“Do whatever you want," the tall dude said. “I'm setting sail to find myself!"

“Well, you at least told her where you were going, right?"

“Oh, don't worry," he assured her. “I left her a post-it."

With that, the guy pushed his boat into the water, jumped aboard, and set sail.

WhatEver tomOorrow brings, I'll beEe there!

With open arms and oOopen eEyYyees, yeEeaAh!

“I think Brandy dodged a huge bullet," Spruce said, wincing as he picked up Princess and the bag. “Well, as long as I'm here, I might as well find a place to stay."

🌊🏝️🌺🍹🦩🍍🌊🏝️🌺🍹🦩🍍

Spruce headed into a nearby town occupied by creatures similar to the rude guy with the terrible singing voice. He found a sign that read, “Getaway, Stayaway Hotel," and decided to go in. Inside, he found the pink, green-haired, red-lipped receptionist talking on the phone, not paying any attention to him.

“I'm telling you, Cheryl," she said, “you really oughta try the Brazilian. It makes me feel like everyday's Carnaval."

Rolling his eyes, Spruce just extended his hair, spun it around like a whip, and slammed it against the desk and successfully rang the bell.

“I'll have to call you back, Cheryl," the receptionist said, and hung up the phone. “Can I help you, sir?"

“I'd like a room," Spruce answered. “And maybe a few drinks."

“Hey, aren't you the heartthrob from BroZone?!" she said excitedly.

“Not anymore," he insisted. “Just put down Spruce."

“Of course," the receptionist agreed, and wrote down “Spruce the Heartthrob 💜" into her book. “Here's your key! Suite 4H!"

“Suite? Isn't that a little extravagant?"

“Anything for a celebrity," she insisted with a dreamy look in her eyes. Spruce just took the key and headed for his room. Once he was gone, the receptionist hit a button and said, “Brenda, there's a famous hunk heading for the bar. Offer him the caramel malt and tell him I recommended it."

“My name's not Brenda, and I was thinking about going home. Something just came up, and..."

“Brenda, cry about it later," she interrupted. “Spruce from BroZone is here, and I want him to love me! Just don't tell the boss."

“Well, I do love BroZone..." not-Brenda said, sniffling. “I'll see what I can do."

Spruce, meanwhile, was getting settled in. However, he had a feeling if the people here knew who he was, they would eventually come swarming in once they noticed him. So, without a second thought, he closed the curtains so no one would see him from outside.

Once his stuff was put up, he left the room and discreetly made his way to the bar downstairs. On the plus side, being the shortest one there meant no one would notice him unless they looked down. Once he got to the bar, he sat down on the edge of the counter and found the bartender wiping a glass, though she kept ruining it with her own tears. The only thing redder than her eyes was her long, thick hair. The rest of her was yellow with orange stripes across her neck and belly. She quickly noticed the purple-haired Troll, wiped away her tears, and put on the prettiest smile she could fake.

“Hello! How may I serve you, Mr. Spruce?" she greeted sweetly. “May I suggest the caramel malt, recommended by Steffie? She's an expert on taste. Or whatever she wanted me to say to you."

“Uh, thanks, but I'll just take a root beer on tap," Spruce replied. “I don't plan on staying. I just need to kill some time before I get a new boat tomorrow morning."

“Oh, what's so great about a stupid boat?" the bartender grumbled as she filled a glass up. “You get to set sail all alone without the one person who stood by you for four years, defied her father for her love for you, and turned down culinary school just to support your dream of becoming a plastic singing fish salesman when she could've gotten a job at a five-star restaurant and maybe start her own business!"

In frustration, the bartender forcefully shoved the root beer across the counter, barely missing Spruce, and it crashed into the wall, making a mess of soda and broken glass. Everyone in the room stared at her in shock.

Despite the fact that he had almost been killed just then, Spruce just took a calm breath and said, “You must be Brandy."

And that's how I met your mother.

I'm just kidding, guys. I've only just begun. 😉